Azure skies are soundly sleeping.
Night blooms on in retrospect.
In the silence trees are weeping;
bending sadly with regret.
All their blazing glory's muted.
yet they'll proudly rise again.
For this chill of dark well suited.
Sun last seen was not in vain.
While the storms and gales surround
Nothing's greener than what's falling.
In the distance a frozen sound.
Bitter winds are far off calling.
Yet as the night fires turn to ashes
dawn awakes and rears it's head.
Sparks of color come in flashes.
Cloaks of black are quickly shed.